Page 70 of Truck Me
“Fried,” he finally says with so much finality. “Sunny side down, please.”
“How many will you eat?”
“Four.”
“Coming right up.” I spin around and can’t contain the smile that spreads across my face. It’s ridiculous how happy it makes me to cook for him.
I thought I was okay with the fact that Brad never wanted me to cook. I was wrong. Having people in my life that enjoy my food makes me insanely happy.
We remain silent while I finish frying up the bacon and start on the eggs. Sunny side down is my favorite way to eat eggs too, and I find way too much satisfaction in that. They’re just eggs. Just because we like our eggs the same way doesn’t mean anything.
Once everything is ready, I set his plate in front of him, and I take the seat on the opposite side of the table.
He takes a few big bites and then groans. “This is really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I smile around a bite of food. He continues eating, shoveling it down like he’s been starved for days.
“It’s nice to have someone to cook for,” I say, to break the silence. “Cooking for my family has been one of the few perks of moving home.”
He looks up at me, his brows furrowed. “You didn’t cook for that man you had in Chicago?”
I feel queasy at the mention of Brad. Garret knows I had a boyfriend, but the thought of him knowing exactly what happens makes me uneasy.
I take a sip of my coffee before I respond. “Nope. He preferred takeout or going out every night.”
Garret mumbles something then follows it up with, “Damn fool.”
I can’t hide my smile. “With a grandma like yours, I bet you never tire of having home-cooked meals. Do you eat dinner with them often?”
He doesn’t answer me, but I think I see a slight shrug as he continues shoveling food in his mouth.
“With as close as you are to Rayne, I’m surprised my mom hasn’t been sending her over with leftovers every day. Do you ever have dinner with my family? I mean, I know you haven’t in the time since I moved home, but maybe in the past?”
He still doesn’t respond. He’s good at avoiding small talk if he’s uninterested in participating.
“Did you know my sister that well?” I notice he tenses, but he doesn’t look up at me. “I mean, you’re so close with Rayne. I thought maybe you and Carol had become friends after I moved away. She and I didn’t talk as much that last year. I think she was mad at me for leaving.”
He drops his fork with a loud clunk. “What is this? Why all the questions?”
Feeling defensive from his harsh response, I say, “Oh, I don’t know. We’ve had sex twice now. I guess I thought it would be nice if I actually knew something about you.”
“Why?” He looks confused.
“You ask that a lot, you know that?” I huff and take a drink of my coffee.
“Ask what?”
“Why?” I throw my hands up in exhaustion. “Every time I want to know something about you or do something nice for you, you ask me why.”
“Oh.” He sinks back in chair looking remorseful for how he responded. He takes a bite of bacon and stares at his plate. After he finishes chewing, he says, “Not used to it, I guess.”
I nod, but don’t say more. If he wants to talk, he will. I can’t force it on him.
He finishes up his eggs and pushes his plate aside before he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. He runs his hand through his already messy hair and tugs at the ends.
“I did know your sister,” he says after a few awkward beats. His answer surprises me. “We’d sorta become friends. It hit me hard when she died. It reminded me of my own experience.”
“You mean your mom?”